


I'm So Sorry

by Novkat21



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek, Angst, Established Relationship, Hurt Stiles Stilinski, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, M/M, Mates, Mating Bond, Mentioned Scott McCall (Teen Wolf), Misunderstandings, One-Sided Theo Raeken/Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Scenting, Stiles Stilinski Has Panic Attacks, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-18
Updated: 2018-12-18
Packaged: 2019-09-21 20:42:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17050238
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Novkat21/pseuds/Novkat21
Summary: “Scott, I fucked up,” Stiles muttered after the beep, head down. “I know you're on your honeymoon, which is why you didn't answer—obviously. I just need to talk to someone, anyone, and you're my best friend, my brother. You're the only one that could understand. I mean, Lydia might, but it's Lydia and this is, this is…”His voice trailed off as his breath hitched, heart starting to race, breath coming in uneven puffs. His arms started to tremble and, with his free hand, he grasped his knee tightly.“I’m such an idiot. I don't think Derek will forgive me. I.. Look, just call me when you can.”





	I'm So Sorry

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt (thank you, wonderful [Anefi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anefi)!): "I fucked up."
> 
> *Warnings: Mentions of rape. Needles. Many panic attacks.*
> 
> Not beta read so all mistakes are mine!
> 
> Enjoy! ♡

Stiles slowly walked back to his jeep, letting the rain soak into his clothes, wishing it could drown him. He unlocked the vehicle and slid into the seat, slamming the door shut behind him. He stared at the steering wheel blankly, numb. Sparing a glance up through his window, he could only see the storm raging down on the car.

He sighed and pulled his phone out of his drenched pants pocket, unlocking it with the flick of his finger. He tapped on the screen a few times before holding the device up to his ear.

“ _Hey, you've reached Scott_ . _Leave a message!_ ”

“Scott, I fucked up,” Stiles muttered after the beep, head down. “I know you're on your honeymoon, which is why you didn't answer—obviously. I just need to talk to someone, anyone, and you're my best friend, my brother. You're the only one that could understand. I mean, Lydia might, but it's Lydia and this is, this is…”

His voice trailed off as his breath hitched, heart starting to race, breath coming in uneven puffs. His arms started to tremble and, with his free hand, he grasped his knee tightly.

“I’m such an idiot. I don't think Derek will forgive me. I.. Look, just call me when you can.”

He hung up and dropped his phone on the seat beside him, gripping the steering wheel as the panic attack crashed over him. Tears spilled down his face, chest heaving, blood rushing in his ears, guilt devouring his insides. Black spots appeared in front of him and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to catch his breath.

He didn't know how long he sat there, but by the time the panic attack finally faded, he was exhausted. He turned the jeep on with a shaky hand and glanced at the time, rain still pounding on the roof of his car. After quickly wiping his eyes, he drove home, grateful that none of his father's deputies were anywhere in his vicinity.

He pulled into his driveway a little while later and shut the car off. He walked to the front door and reached his hand out to the knob when it flew open, Derek standing on the other side. His hair was mussed, eyes wide and wild, sweat glistening off his skin.

“Stiles, where the hell have you been?” the man asked, dragging him inside and closing the door. “You're sopping wet.” Stiles kept his gaze on the floor, swallowing back the lump in his throat. Warm hands made quick work of peeling off Stiles’ drenched clothes, leaving him only in his boxers. He hurried off and returned with a pair of gray sweats and a blanket. When Stiles didn't move to put the sweats on, Derek set the blanket down and helped him into the clothes. Once that was done, he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders and pulled him close.

Phantom hands caressed Stiles’ front and he shivered, jerking out of Derek's grip. The werewolf gave him an inquisitive look, keeping his hands on his shoulders.

“Stiles?” Stiles shook his head, holding back a whimper. Sniffing sounded and the human tensed, closing his eyes tightly. “What's that smell?” Stiles finally lifted his gaze to look at his fiancé and took a step back. Derek leaned in and sniffed again, then his face paled, arms dropping to his sides. “No, you wouldn't.”

Stiles winced. “I…”

“We mated,” Derek growled angrily, a hint of hurt in his tone. “For _life_. Does that mean nothing to you?!”

Stiles reached out for him, blanket falling around his feet. “It means _everything_ to me, Derek.”

Derek's expression darkened, eyes flashing. “Apparently not.”

“Derek, no, please—”

“Get out.” Stiles took a step toward him only to stumble back when Derek roared. “ _Get out!_ ”

Stiles quickly grabbed his phone and keys and dashed out the door, tripping on the blanket in his haste. He rushed to his car, slid inside and peeled away, dread crawling up his throat. His vision blurred as he slammed his bare foot on the accelerator and he only went a little further before he pulled over and choked on a sob. His fingers dug into his shirt, blunt nails scratching at his chest as he struggled to breathe. His chest ached, anguish ripping at his heart. He just wanted it to end.

Headlights abruptly shone in his rearview mirror and he tried to calm down as he saw a shadowed figure approach his vehicle. He rolled the window down and barely glanced over.

“Stiles?” Jordan's concerned voice reached his ears and then his door was being yanked open. “Stiles, hey, breathe with me! In, one, two. Out, one, two. Come on.”

Stiles gripped the man's arm when the officer placed his hand on his knee, following his instructions as best he could. It took a few minutes, and he still had some hiccup sobs slip out, but he was finally able to breathe and see again.

“Thanks,” Stiles mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

“Of course. What happened?” Stiles’ lips wobbled but he didn't say a word, not trusting his voice, as his body started to shake from the cold air. “Okay, let's not talk about it. Can you drive?” Stiles let out a slow breath, throat tight, tears threatening to fill his eyes and drench his cheeks. He pushed a hand through his wet hair and shook his head once. “Alright, come with me. I'll have someone drive your jeep back to your place.”

Stiles let Jordan lead him to his cruiser and into the passenger seat, the rain beating down on both of them. Stiles bucked himself in and hunched over, wrapping his hands together in an attempt to warm them. Jordan got behind the driver's seat and turned the car around. Realizing where he was headed, Stiles grasped the officer's bicep.

“No, don't take me home. I can't go there,” he blurted.

Jordan glanced at him, brow pulled down in apprehension. “Why not?”

“Just...please.”

“Okay. How about your dad's?” Stiles shook his head vehemently, grip tightening on Jordan's arm. A heavy sigh left the man's lips. “Alright then. I won't take you there either. You're just lucky my shift is over.”

Ten minutes later, they pulled up to a small, quaint house, two large oak trees framing it and giving it a homey vibe. The rain had calmed to a light drizzle, raindrops dancing off the car. Stiles climbed out and followed Jordan up to the front door. They entered the home and Jordan flicked on the lights, closing and locking the door behind them.

Stiles felt Jordan's eyes on him and glanced down at himself. The sweats were damp on the front, mud caked into the pants near his ankles and covering his feet.

“Wait here,” Jordan said before disappearing down the hall. Stiles kept his gaze down while he stood there, Derek's eyes full of hurt flashing to the front of his mind. He rubbed his face, eyes shut tightly, as a whimper slipped out. Footsteps approached him and he dropped his hands, looking at Jordan's socked feet. The top of his head appeared and he felt a warm towel running over his toes.

“You don't have to do that,” Stiles whispered, not trusting his voice.

“I doubt you'd be able to with how you are right now,” Jordan replied, lifting Stiles’ foot to clean off the mud underneath.

Once he was done, he stood up, put an arm around Stiles and led him into a small living room. A cozy fireplace sat opposite the room’s opening, a long couch with a blanket draped over the back settled facing with a small table on one side.

Jordan guided him to the couch where a pillow was placed on the end where the table was, a cup of water set next to the lamp.

“I only have one room, sorry.” Stiles gave Jordan a small smile, then curled up on the couch, resting his head on the pillow. Jordan pulled the blanket over him and stepped back, concern written all over his face. “Get some sleep, Stiles. We'll figure everything out in the morning.”

Stiles nodded once, then closed his eyes and succumbed to sleep quicker than he anticipated.

 

When Stiles woke, the sun was just barely peeking through the windows. Pain laced through his lower half, other sore spots throughout his body crying out as he rose to a sitting position. His brow creased in confusion as he shifted so as not to put all his weight in one spot.

A sizzling sound and the scent of bacon reached him before he could get carried away in his thoughts and he got off the couch, wandering toward what he hoped was the kitchen.

Jordan stood at the stove, focused on the cooking food before him. Noticing a wooden dining table set for two, he walked over and sat down, staring down at its surface.

“Morning,” Jordan greeted. “Hope you're hungry. I think I made a bit too much.”

Stiles glanced up as Jordan turned the stove off and brought two plates over, setting one down in front of him. He looked at the steaming bacon, eggs and pancakes, stomach rumbling. Stiles reached for his fork, then stopped when a nauseating twist of guilt surged up in his gut, overwhelming any desire to eat. He placed his hands on his lap and stared down at them silently.

“Stiles,” Jordan said softly. “You need to eat.”

“I can't,” Stiles replied. A sigh sounded and Stiles bent over a little more. “I'm sorry. I'm sure it's good. I just…”

Silence settled between them for a moment, then Stiles heard Jordan set his fork down, pushing his plate aside. “Is everything okay between you and Derek?”

Stiles swallowed thickly. “I...No.”

“What did he do?”

Stiles snapped his head up at the angry tone coming from the other man. “No, it wasn't his fault. Derek did nothing wrong. He's...He's perfect!”

The anger melted away, but Jordan didn't look particularly convinced. “Then what's going on?”

“I…”

A loud knock sounded from the front door, Stiles startling in his seat. Jordan stood, signalling for him to wait, then vanished down the hall. Stiles listened in as the front door opened and Jordan started speaking to whoever was there. Then the other person spoke and Stiles felt his stomach drop, blood rushing in his ears.

The front door closed and footsteps sounded, heading back to the kitchen.

“Oh, sorry, didn't know you had company.”

“No worries,” Jordan said. “Stiles, you know Theo. He's here for some-”

Stiles shot out of the chair and rushed out of the room, bile forcing itself up and out just as he found a toilet. He stayed hunched over the white cylinder as his stomach emptied itself, eyes burning with tears.

A reassuring hand rested on his back a moment later, even after he finished. A damp cloth was pressed to his forehead as he slumped against Jordan, his body shaking.

“What was that about? Are you sick?” the deputy asked as he flushed the toilet, wrapping his arm around him. Stiles closed his eyes and shook his head. “Hey, Theo!”

“Yeah?” the man responded as he approached them. Stiles immediately tensed and tried to hide himself further into Jordan. He felt Jordan's eyes on him, but refused to meet his gaze, the arm around him tightening protectively.

“Could you come back later? I need to help Stiles.”

“Of course.” Theo's voice was tinted with irritation, though. “I'll stop by tomorrow.”

Stiles didn't move until he heard the front door open and close, then he pulled away.

“He did something to you,” Jordan surmised.

“I...I don't know,” Stiles said honestly, meeting the other man's gaze. “I just remember waking up naked in his bed with him.”

Fury flashed in Jordan's eyes. “Where were you before that?”

Stiles looked away and worried his lip. “I...I was driving home from visiting my dad. I saw Th—him on the side of the road. I knew him from school and he seemed nice back then.”

“Stiles.” Jordan's serious tone had him looking back at the officer warily. “Did he hurt you?”

“He might have. I don't know. I can't remember anything.”

Jordan's mouth set into a thin line and he stood up, helping Stiles to his feet. He took him back to the living room then went down the hall. He returned with a pair of slip-on shoes and helped Stiles put them on before he grabbed his keys and wallet.

“Where are we going?” Stiles inquired as they walked outside, Jordan locking the door behind them.

“The station,” Jordan said simply, guiding Stiles to his cruiser. Stiles skidded to a halt as Jordan opened the passenger door. “What’s wrong?”

“My dad's at the station. He doesn't know. I can't go there.”

“Stiles, we're just going to file a report. We don't have to talk to your dad.”

Swallowing nervously, he slid into the seat and watched Jordan get in on the driver's side, heading down to the sheriff's station.

The drive there was silent. Stiles stared out his window, fighting back a panic attack the closer they got.

Jordan parked his car and walked inside with Stiles, keeping a comforting hand on his back. A few other officers looked over before going back to their work. He led Stiles to the back of the station and into a small room.

“Why are we back here? I thought we were just filing a report.” He watched Jordan ask another deputy to bring some medical devices over to the desk Stiles was standing in front of.

“We are,” Jordan said, squirting some hand sanitizer on his hands. “But I think you were drugged and I just want to be sure.”

“Drugged? You really think he'd do that?”

“Seeing as you don't remember anything between picking Theo up and waking up in his bed, it's a pretty good assumption.”

Stiles sat down on the empty chair and watch Jordan and his co-worker prepare for bloodwork. The coworker—Deputy Darwin, according to his name tag—cleaned Stiles arm with an alcohol swab before inserting the needle. Stiles glanced away, stomach churning as they started to take his blood.

“How long until we get the results back?” he asked.

“Not for about 48 to 72 hours,” Darwin answered, setting the vials of his blood aside and placing a bandage over his arm.

“Parrish?” Stiles stilled in his seat, eyes widening as he watched Jordan turn to meet his father in the doorway. “You're off today. What are you doing here?”

“Sir-” Jordan started, but his father's gaze fell on him and he gave the older man a small wave.

“ _Stiles?_ What's going on?”

“Sir, I think Stiles has been roofied.”

The sheriff’s jaw clenched as he looked between the two. “Who?”

“Theo Raeken.”

Stiles slowly got up from the chair as his father's face turned red. “Dad, it's fine. It's probably nothing. I just-”

His father put a hand up, turning back to Jordan. “What happened?”

“He says he doesn't remember anything after leaving your place last night and waking up in Theo's bed. Seems likes roofies to me, sir.”

Sighing, the sheriff looked at Deputy Darwin. “I want you and Edwards to go to Raeken's house and bring him in for questioning.” His father finally turned to Stiles, expression softening. “Where was Derek?”

“At home, I assume,” he told him with a shrug. “He was there when I...when I showed up.”

A sudden ruckus out in the front office startled them all and they rushed out of the room. Four officers were holding Derek back from barging over to them, eyes glowing red, lips pulled back over his fangs.

“What the hell?” Deputy Darwin whispered beside Stiles, nearly dropping the case of vials.

Those bright red eyes landed on Stiles and a furious snarl ripped out of Derek's chest, echoing off the walls.

“Derek, you need to calm down, now!” the sheriff yelled, slowly approaching him, one hand on his holster while the other was held up in a show of peace.

“Stiles,” Derek growled out, shoving the officers off him, but staying in place.

“What's going on, son?” Stiles heard his father ask in a calm voice, keeping his stance.

“I need...I need to talk to Stiles,” Derek ground out, hands flexing at his sides.

“Not until you calm down.”

Another growl sounded and Stiles hurried over, placing a hand on his father's arm. “Dad, it's okay. He won't hurt me.”

Blue, worried eyes flickered to him, then his father stepped back. In the next second, Stiles was pressed up against Derek's chest, arms wound firmly around him.

“I'm so sorry,” the wolf breathed into his ear. “I'm so sorry.”

“For what?” Even as he asked, stunned, he gripped the back of Derek's shirt tightly, afraid that if he didn't, Derek would disappear.

“For kicking you out.” Stiles closed his eyes and buried his face in Derek's shoulder, letting his mate’s warmth wash over and comfort him. “I could only smell someone else on you and I got angry. I didn't even think. I just assumed and then you were gone. The scent was all over your clothes.”

“Then why…?”

“Something smelled wrong on your shirt. It wasn't him or you. It was…It burned my nostrils and smelled like acid and chemicals and wrong. I've been running around town looking for you since.”

Stiles heard his father start barking orders, but all he could do was listen to Derek's heartbeat, his breath caressing his ear and neck. He held on tighter to his lover, feeling safe for the first time in hours, slumping against him.

“Stiles?” Derek said, alarmed.

“I missed you so much,” Stiles whispered, tears stinging his eyes. He felt Derek's nose nuzzle into the juncture of his neck and shoulder, holding him closer.

“Why don't you two sit down?” his father suggested, placing a warm hand on his lower back. “We're going to get Theo now for questioning and we'd like you two to stay here for that.”

“Theo?” Derek asked as he walked over to the bench and sat down with Stiles, keeping him against his side.

Jordan stepped up beside the sheriff, mouth set in a thin line. “We think he drugged Stiles, possibly more.”

A sharp growl slipped past Derek's lips, his grip on Stiles tightening. “I'll kill him.”

“You're not killing him,” his father said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We're going to take care of this civilly and lawfully.”

Stiles set his hand on Derek's thigh as the werewolf huffed angrily. “Are you guys going to get him?”

“Ellis and Anderson were already in his neighborhood for patrol. They're bringing him in now. Just relax, alright?”

Stiles nodded and watched his father turn to some other officers, all business now.

“Can you walk?” Derek whispered in his ear, sending a chill down his spine.

“Yeah, why?”

Without waiting for a response, Derek took Stiles’ hand and led him down an empty hallway, pushing him into a surprisingly spacious janitor’s closet. He shoved himself inside and closed the door behind him, blocking the only way out.

“Derek, wha-” Derek's lips were on his instantly, large hands framing his face. The kiss was gentle yet firm with a hint of passion and desire. Stiles reached up and placed his hands over Derek's, closing his eyes and kissing him back fervently. Before it got too heated, though, Derek pulled away, nostrils flaring.

“What was that for?” Stiles inquired breathlessly.

“I messed up, Stiles,” Derek replied quietly, thumbs caressing his cheeks. “I hurt you and practically rejected you. I don't ever want you to feel as though I don't care about you or love you, because I do. You're my whole world and I can't bear the thought of losing you.”

Tears welling in his eyes, Stiles gave Derek a peck on the lips. “It’s not your fault. You can't control other people.”

Derek looked at him in awe. “You're so calm about this.”

“I wasn't earlier. If it wasn't for Jordan...I don't know what would've happened.”

Derek kissed Stiles’ forehead, lips lingering for a moment. He held the human's hand and walked with him back out to the front. Jordan turned and nodded at them.

“They just brought him in,” he stated, gesturing to the interrogation room.

Stiles glanced at Derek before they went into a room adjacent to the one Jordan had mentioned. A large one-way mirror was built into one wall, a few desks placed underneath it with miscellaneous items strewn about. His father and two other officers were standing off to one side, talking amongst each other.

Stiles slowly moved further into the room, staring hesitantly at the young man seated at the table on the other side of the wall. His dark eyes were glaring at the glass, hands cuffed and resting on the hard surface.

“Edwards is going to interrogate since I'm too close to this case,” his father told them as he approached, folding his arms over his chest.

Stiles squeezed Derek's hand, heart starting to race. Derek tightened his own grip slightly, reassuringly.

Officer Edwards left the back room, reappearing on the other side of the glass with a clipboard in one hand. He sat down across from Theo and frowned.

“Theo Raeken, we just need to you to answer a few questions,” Edwards said, voice coming in loud and clear through the speakers. “Depending on your answers, we'll let you go.”

“Why am I here in the first place?” Theo snapped. “I didn't do anything.”

Edwards frown turned into a deep scowl as he folded his hands on the table. “We have reason to believe you drugged and kidnapped a man named Stiles Stilinski.”

Stiles stood frozen on the spot, taking in slow deep breaths as he tried to listen to every word. Derek's hold on his hand was the only thing anchoring him.

The interrogation seemed to drag on for hours, and maybe it did. But by the time it was over, Theo was refusing to say anything more without a lawyer.

Stiles sunk to the floor as panic surged up into his throat, body shaking. He heard his name being called, but it all sounded so far away. His mind was in a spiral and he felt foolish for not putting it all together earlier.

 

_“He looked thirsty,” Theo had said nonchalantly. “So I gave him my extra bottle of water. He got really drowsy all of a sudden so I had him pull over and I drove him back to my place.”_

_“And then what happened?” Edwards had asked, hunching over and glaring at the bastard after getting him to finally confess._

_Theo's jaw had clenched, then he had abruptly leaned back in his chair, sneering. “I ravished him. He just looked so delicious. I couldn't help myself.” Piercing gray eyes slid to the glass and seemed to look through Stiles. “But he just wasn't having it. He kept moaning for Derek. Derek this, Derek that. I gave up after the second round and he was out like a light. When I woke up, he was gone.” Theo’s lips pulled up in a smug grin, eyes flashing in triumph._

 

Black spots appeared in Stiles’ range of vision, his chest tightening from lack of air. His cheeks were cold and wet with tears, heartbeat resonating in his head.

Two warm hands grabbed his own and placed them against solid muscle, chest moving in a steady pace with breath.

“Stiles, it's alright, you're safe.” Derek. Derek was there. He started to calm down when reality came crashing back and he wheezed, choking on nothing. He yanked one hand back and scratched at his throat, vision blurring. “Stiles, it's okay! You're okay! Just breathe!”

“I-I,” Stiles gasped, blinking rapidly. “I'm not good...not good for you.”

Derek's strong arms wrapped around him and slammed him against his torso, sweet nothings of comfort whispering in his ear. His fingers fumbled around, grasping for something, anything.

“I've got you, Stiles,” Derek was saying, lips caressing his skin. “You're safe. It's alright. I've got you.”

“Not good for you, Der,” Stiles whimpered once his breathing was somewhat back to normal, Derek's shirt tightly in his grasp.

“You're perfect.”

“I'm broken. I-I can't-”

“Hush, it's alright. I've got you.”

Stiles became aware of a rocking sensation and realized he was curled up on Derek's lap, the werewolf gently moving them side to side on the floor. He felt eyes on his back, but he didn't want to move. He felt so safe in his mate's arms.

“He's going away for a long time,” he heard his father mumble before a door softly shut, silence enveloping them.

“He ruined me,” Stiles whispered against Derek's shoulder.

Fingers brushed through his hair, cradling the back of his head. “You're not ruined, Stiles. I promise. You're just as perfect as you were the day I met you.”

“But-”

“ _No._ ” Derek lifted Stiles’ face and hazel eyes bore into his own, determination in their depths. “Theo is the ruined one. He's the piece of shit that hurt you. There's nothing wrong with you. I still love you and nothing will ever change that.”

Stiles swallowed thickly. “The bond?”

“Is still there. I can show you, if you want.”

Stiles nodded, then wrapped his arms around Derek's neck, letting the werewolf carry him out of the room. He rested his head against Derek's chest, listening to his heartbeat. He tuned out everything else, clutching to his lover tighter as cold air washed over them. Derek set him down in the passenger seat, buckling him in before going to the driver's side and driving them home.

All Stiles could think of was those dead, gray eyes, shivers of disgust running down his spine. He barely noticed when Derek parked in the driveway and helped him out of the car. He closed his eyes, trusting his mate would take care of him.

Derek set him down on the toilet lid a few minutes later and turned on the tub water. Stiles blinked up at him slowly and undressed himself. He stepped into the bathtub, sighing as hot water circled about his ankles, tickling his leg hair as it rose higher. He glanced back at Derek to see him stripping and stepping in, settling down against the back of the tub, spreading out as best he could. Stiles sat down, then leaned back against Derek, body relaxing as the water enveloped them.

“This is nice,” he murmured, resting his head on Derek's shoulder. He felt Derek's arms surround him, soft lips kissing his temple.

“The peace you feel is our bond,” Derek replied, nuzzling his cheek with his scruff. “You may not always feel it, but it's there. Always.”

Stiles hummed in content, closing his eyes as all the tension left his body. “I love it. And you. I love you. A lot.”

“I love you, too.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Please let me know if I missed a tag!
> 
> Kudos and comments are always appreciated!
> 
>  
> 
> [My Tumblr](https://novkat21.tumblr.com)


End file.
